The outside thermometer reads a frigid -25 and a cold wind ruffles the snow on Devil Track Lake. It’s a great day to make soup, so I begin by dredging stew meat in flour and sautéing it in hot oil.
The dogs rest quietly on their sofas. Dick is working on a project in the garage. Out in the yard, flocks of birds chow down on suet and a mixture of sunflower seeds, peanut chunks and cracked corn. The huge influx of birds I’ve been hoping for this winter has finally found my yard. The scene is peaceful and I’m happy to be home and not have to go anywhere.
No, this isn’t another recipe column. The News-Herald has a fantastic recipe column written by Sandy Holthaus, and she puts out really rocking recipes.
I don’t even have a recipe for my soup. The best part of making it is that most of the vegetables come from my own garden and, well to be honest, I feel like bragging about it. This year’s garden did really well—as northeastern Minnesota gardens go.
I add water to the browned beef chunks and begin prepping vegetables. As I chop a small rutabaga into small pieces, I decide to plant more next summer. They did well in a raised bed.
Next I peel and cut up carrots. This summer’s carrots were gigantic, and as I chop one into nice orange rounds, I regret that my supply, stored in the basement and covered with sand is almost gone.
Moving on to my next task, I rub and then wash dirt from half a dozen potatoes also stored in sand. This season’s potato crop was good. I scrub, slice and dice them, recalling the fun of harvesting in September. Digging in the dirt to bring up plump, fresh potatoes is always exciting.
When the meat has simmered for an hour, I add the cut-up veggies and dig in the freezer. Somewhere back in the far reaches of the top shelf, is a bag of frozen, homegrown kale. Aha. There it is. I pull it out, defrost it briefly in the microwave and add it to the soup.
The soup is starting to look yummy. I return to the freezer and take out a container of homemade stewed tomatoes and dump that into the soup mix. For a grand finale I find a half-cup of pearled barley hidden in the kitchen cupboard. Throwing that in the mix is the final step.
Now all I need to do is let the soup simmer until the veggies are tender. Later, after an early winter sunset, I will break today’s pattern of homegrown and open a refrigerated can of ready-to-bake Pillsbury French bread. When it’s baked, I’ll serve it, crusty and warm with the soup.
I like homegrown and home-baked as much as anyone, but I’m not perfect.
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